


The French (Revolution) Mistake

by miserablephantomcats



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Les Amis - Freeform, Les Amis de l'ABC - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, The French Mistake
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-13 04:07:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3367184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miserablephantomcats/pseuds/miserablephantomcats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about Les Amis de l’ABC (plus Marius) from Victor Hugo’s novel Les Misérables, who find themselves transported from Paris, 1832 to England, 2012. Seems like nothing that hasn’t been done before, right? But here’s the twist – somehow they’re all being mistaken for the actors who portray them in Tom Hooper’s 2012 movie musical of the novel.<br/>Inspired by the Supernatural episode "The French Mistake".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Only Les Amis + Marius are French Mistake'd – all other characters are seen as the actors playing them, but of course Les Amis see them as the people they know from their lives in Paris.
> 
> And it would be much appreciated if you would kindly ignore the fact that somehow they all happen to speak English fluently (although the novel does indicate that they know some English). Also I don’t really know how to write in 19th century speak, and my portrayal of movie-filming and sound-stuff is all based on what I've seen on TV, in videos and researched on the Internet, so do forgive me for that too.

“Do you permit it?” The look of determination on Grantaire’s face was new, despite there being a hint of his ever-present self-deprecation mixed into it.

Enjolras smiled at him without a trace of the contempt he normally had for the cynic, and held out his hand.

All he felt was Grantaire’s hand clasping his own tightly, and he barely heard the first few gunshots before everything descended into darkness.

*

Enjolras’ first thought when he opened his eyes was that the ceiling of the tavern had somehow changed from being constructed from grimy, dusty wooden beams, to a clean, white plaster surface. _That’s strange, the tavern has never been this clean before._ Enjolras turned over on his side to try to get a better look at the rest of the tavern, and promptly rolled right off the bed.

He landed on his side with a loud thud on the smooth, wooden floorboards, and as he sat up, rubbing his shoulder painfully, he realised that he hadn’t been lying on a bed at all, but on a lounge of sorts. Only this wasn’t any lounge he had seen in all of his twenty-six years. This lounge had smooth edges and was covered in a brown leathery material, rather than the red velvet so often favoured by the members of the rich upper class.

Standing up, he realised he wasn’t in the tavern either. He was standing in a small room which, along with the lounge he had been lying on, contained a round table and two chairs, a few countertops made not of wood, but of granite. On the far wall was a black rectangle with a surface so shiny Enjolras could make out his own reflection in it, but it was obviously not a mirror. He was caught up in examining the black rectangle, trying to work out what its purpose could possibly be, when a loud knocking coming from outside the little room startled him. 

He looked around frantically for the source of the knocking, and spotting a face peering in through a window attached to a door, headed for it. He looked for a door knob, but only saw a long handle of sorts. He pulled and pushed on it, but the door wouldn’t open, but right then the handle was forced downwards from the outside and the door swung outwards to reveal a harried-looking woman standing outside.

Enjolras barely had time to register that despite being a woman (he could tell from her long hair, which was pulled back in a ponytail, and from the distinct curve of her breasts under her shirt, that she was indeed, a woman), she was dressed in pants, before she starting talking to him really quickly.

“Aaron, I knew Tom said we were done for the day and I’m sorry if I interrupted your nap, but we need to reshoot a few scenes from the ABC Café again. Turns out the sound wasn’t working so well so the only good quality audio we got was Fra shouting “Listen everybody!” and George’s “agog-aghast” solo bit. So we need you to come shoot those scenes again. Oh great! You’re still in your costume. Aren’t you glad you didn’t change?”

Enjolras was torn between trying to understand what she had just said to him (did she say re _shoot_? And did she call him _Aaron_? Who was Aaron?) and trying to work out how she managed to get all those words out without drawing any breath. But before he could ask her to please repeat what she had said, she had turned around and started walking away. He hurried after her, stepping out of the room and directly into open air. He must have been in a cabin then.

He followed her down a street that was made of not cobblestones, but a solid, tar-coloured material, and past other oblong, white cabins like the one he had just been in, questions burning on the tip of his tongue. _What happened to the rest of the Amis? Where are they? They’re all dead, where are their bodies? Why isn’t he dead too? What happened to Paris? What are those black circles covering the lady’s ears and joined by a black band over the top of her head?_

Before he had a chance to ask any of the questions, she was leading him into a vast, cavernous building filled with other people dressed like her – wearing pants made out of a strange, blue material he had never seen, with the same black contraptions on their heads connecting two circles covering their ears – as well as people dressed like him, in the way he was familiar with. He heaved a sigh of relief when his gaze fell on a familiar face, but that relief was quickly replaced by confusion, which in turn immediately gave way to desperate hope mixed with happiness.

“Combeferre?”

*

“Enjolras?” Combeferre’s look of relief, mingled with confusion, joy and hope, mirrored Enjolras’ own. He hurried over from where he had been talking to a young man dressed the same way as the woman who had led Enjolras to the building.

“Are you alright? What’s going on?” Enjolras managed to get out before he was enveloped in a tight hug by Combeferre.

“I am so happy to see you! You’re alive! And so is everyone else, which makes no sense at all because I vividly remember Jehan being shot beyond the barricade, and Gavroche too, and Courfeyrac, Joly, Bossuet and Feuilly…”

“Everyone’s here?” The small hope that had been building in Enjolras’ chest since he first spotted Combeferre now blossomed into something much bigger. “Where are they?”

“Ok wow you guys are really putting a lot of effort into getting into character,” the woman, whom Enjolras had forgotten about in the excitement of seeing his friend again, interrupted, “And that’s awesome, but we really need to get shooting again if we all want to go back to our hotels tonight.” With that, she started walking again and Enjolras and Combeferre looked at each other and shrugged, before following her. At least they now knew they had each other in this strange, foreign land that they had somehow landed in.

They stopped short when they saw what she had led them to.

They were in the Café Musain, and their friends were in it.

At least, it looked like the Musain – this Musain had the chairs and tables they knew so well, where they had sat and talked of revolution so many times, but something was different. For one, the café only had three walls, and they had walked into the room through the big gap where the fourth wall should have been. Secondly, apart from their friends, who looked no less familiar to them (albeit more confused), there were also other men and women crammed into the tight space, carrying black contraptions on their shoulders or holding them high over their heads and sitting in front of little rectangles that _captured exactly the details of the room and people in front of them_. Enjolras was so shocked at the idea that this little rectangle could replicate every single detail of the café so quickly, that he didn’t notice the man barrelling towards him and engulfing him in a tight hug.

“Enjolras! I can’t believe you’re here too! I’m so confused but I’m glad you’re here!”

“Courfeyrac? You’re alive? I didn’t dare believe Combeferre when he said you were all alive, but here you are, standing in front of me!” Enjolras looked around the room, recognising each face as his gaze fell upon them. “Bossuet… Joly… Feuilly… Jehan… Bahorel… Grantaire… Marius… you’re all here!”

A voice interrupted Enjolras’ joy at seeing all of his friends again. “Fantastic! You’re all here! And you’re all already in character! We should be done reshooting in no time at all!” They all turned at once in the direction of the voice, which was coming from the man with sandy hair sitting behind the little black rectangle. “Is the sound ok now?” The man addressed another man holding a long black stick with what looked like a big, black bushy tail hanging off the end.

“It’s working, Tom. Hopefully it doesn’t mess up again,” the man replied.

Tom turned back to the group. “Let’s get this over and done with, shall we?”

*

“Ok let’s take it from ‘The time is near’ Aaron,” Tom said to Enjolras at the same time a lady yelled “Silence on set!” to the room at large. _Why do people keep calling him Aaron?_

Enjolras looked to Combeferre, hoping he would know more than he himself did to explain what was happening, but Combeferre looked equally confused. Enjolras turned around to seek out answers in the rest of his friends’ faces, but found none. Instead, he realised that Tom and every person other than his friends were staring at them with varying degrees of expectation.

“Uh guys? If you could get into position, that would be great,” Tom addressed the group.

“What… positions?” Courfeyrac managed to get out slowly, his eyes darting nervously from his friends to Tom and back again. “We’re not sure what you mean.”

Tom seemed momentarily lost for words. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then shut it again, then opened it and shut it again. He seemed to finally come to a decision on what to say, because he laughed and said “Very funny guys, but it isn’t April Fools. Good effort on coordinating this prank together though!”

Everyone else in the room chuckled except for Les Amis. The looks of confusion remained on their faces.

“Now let’s be serious. We’re all tired, and we all want to go back to our hotels, so let’s focus and do this properly now shall we?”

“But we can’t do what you want us to do, when we have absolutely no idea what you want us to do,” Enjolras tried to keep his voice level and prevent the annoyance he was starting to feel from creeping into it.

Once again, Tom seemed lost for words. He slowly panned his gaze around, starting from Enjolras standing nearest the edge of the room, and ending with Bossuet hovering uncertainly near a small table on the other end of the room. Then he panned back slowly to Enjolras, and this time, he kept his gaze on him, appearing to scrutinise him as if trying to work out if he was being serious or not. Finally, he sighed.

“Ok,” he breathed out. “Ok. I know you’re all tired after a long day of shooting, and I can’t even imagine what your throats must feel like by now, but I would think that you’d be able to handle it – I mean, almost all of you have performed on stage before! Surely that must be harder, without the air-conditioned trailers and personal assistants!” He looked at the men, as if expecting them to answer him.

When they said nothing, he sighed again. “Alright, we’ll just do this tomorrow then. No, no, no, we can’t do it tomorrow. We’re doing Eddie and Amanda’s scene tomorrow. We’ll have to do it the day after.” He raked a hand through his hair while flipping through a set of papers. He looked up at them again. “Try to have a good sleep tonight guys, and hopefully you’ll all be back to normal by Wednesday.” He walked out of the room, wearing a slightly confused and mildly upset expression.

As if on cue, the other people in the room started putting away their black devices into black boxes, and leaving the room. The Amis took it as a sign to mean they could leave too. The problem was, they didn’t know where to go. Everyone looked expectantly to Enjolras, their leader, but for once, he was lost for answers too. They all seemed to realise this when he looked back at them with uncertainty on his face, and then simultaneously looked around for someone else they could ask.

A woman was the last of the non-Amis group left behind, still packing up her black contraption. Bossuet, who was closest to her, hurried over before she could leave, and in the process, tripped over the leg of a chair and fell onto a table, which splintered under him.

The woman looked up in shock at the noise and, seeing what had caused the commotion, immediately joined Joly and Jehan in picking Bossuet up. She looked incredulously at him, then at the broken table, then back at him, before saying slowly, “Wow Stuart, I get that you want to be your character as much as possible, but for one, we aren’t filming now, and secondly, we aren’t really aiming on getting into as much detail as this with the musical. I mean, the musical hardly – no, _never_ – sheds any light on Bossuet’s unlucky streak anyway, so it’s ok to hold off on the Bossuet-luck, because we do want to preserve the set.” She patted him on the shoulder. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you guys today, but hopefully you’ll be fine by tomorrow. We’ll leave the broken table for now. I’m beat.” With that, she picked up her black case and walked out.

“Did she just call you Stuart?” Joly asked Bossuet.

“I think so…” Bossuet looked back at him, seeming slightly upset, before shaking his head twice and smiling. Leave it to Bossuet to shrug off his misfortune so quickly. “Well, we’ve still got to figure out where we’re spending the night. Does anyone have any idea?”

“We could go back to my cabin,” Enjolras suggested. “There isn’t anywhere else I know of that we could go to.”

They all murmured their agreement that they would rather spend the night with their friends than alone in their own strange cabins, and as a group, headed out of the building and back down the street to Enjolras’ cabin. Once in there, they all settled in various sitting and half-lying positions on the lounge, the floor, or slumped over on the table.

The last thing Enjolras heard before being overwhelmed by sleep was Grantaire muttering, “I need a drink.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marius meets Amanda Seyfried (whom he sees as Cosette, of course) and Samantha Barks (Éponine) when he has to shoot “A Heart Full of Love”, and we realise that Marius Pontmercy can actually sing. 
> 
> Also I get carried away poking fun at Cosette-worshipping Marius and how thick he still is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who decided to give my first chapter a chance - I hope you liked it!
> 
> And to everyone who left kudos and to adropofstarlight for leaving your wonderful comment - you guys are amazing.

“Let’s take it from your part again, Eddie,” Tom said, looking at Marius.

_Eddie_? “My name is Marius Pontmercy,” Marius stammered.

“Exactly, from that line! But perhaps we’ll lean more towards singing it rather than working the speak-singing angle this time, Eddie,” Tom smiled at him. “Although I do appreciate you putting yourself in your character’s shoes and trying to emulate his nervousness in your acting.”

Did he just say _sing_? Marius couldn’t sing – or at least he thought he couldn’t. He had never sung in front of so many people before. The only times he had ever felt comfortable singing was in the bath, or when he got embarrassingly drunk with the Amis at the Corinthe. His heart rate started picking up and his palms got sweaty.

Just when he felt he might pass out, an angel appeared, and immediately, all the apprehension and fear he was feeling vanished. _Cosette_. Cosette, who brought light into his day, who never failed to make all his troubles disappear when he thought of her. Cosette, who changed his world from the moment he set eyes on her. Cosette, whom he had feared he would never see again when she had sailed for England.

But here she was, right in front of him, as beautiful as she had been the first time he saw her.

“Cosette! I feared I would never see you again!” Marius gushed, tears springing to his eyes. He rushed towards her, grasping her soft, white hands in his own.

“Eddie!” Cosette surprised him by bursting into laughter. “I see you’ve been practising your pining. Did you know you’re really good at this crying-on-cue thing? How’d you get the tears to come so quickly? Did you use eye drops or something? Or do you just fall back on the whole imagine-a-little-kitten-being-run-over thing?”

“Cosette?” Marius was confused that Cosette was calling him Eddie like everyone else, instead of his name. He knew that she knew his name – he had told her that evening when they had first spoken. In fact, he was extremely confused about a lot more than that.

He remembered being hit by a bullet at the barricade. He had felt strong hands grasp him, and his last thought was regret at being taken prisoner, mingled with the memory of Cosette’s angelic face.

Then this morning, he had been woken suddenly from his fitful sleep in Enjolras’s cabin, by the thought that he would never see Cosette again. At the barricade, he had always clung on to the small hope that they would survive and he would somehow find his love again, but now, in this strange world that seemed even further from Paris than England was, he had been convinced he had lost Cosette for good.

So now seeing her, in the flesh, in front of his eyes, he felt a joy like never before, despite still feeling bewildered.

“Why are you calling me Eddie? My name is Marius,” he said earnestly to her, imploring her to recognise him.

“Oh ok, so we’re already getting into character? Ok let me just get into Cosette-mode.” She looked away from him, gazing into the distance seriously. Then she looked back at him and said “Ok I’m ready” before bursting into laughter again. She patted his cheek and then let go of his hands to walk to the other side of the gate they had been standing beside. “Let’s do this.”

Do what? Sing? At that thought, all the nervousness came rushing back to Marius. He couldn’t sing. He couldn’t sing _words that he_ _didn’t know_! He couldn’t sing a _tune that he had never heard_! He didn’t know what to do.

“All silent on set!” a woman yelled.

“Aaaaaand action,” Tom directed.

All of a sudden, Marius heard a beautiful melody, but even as he turned around wildly looking for the source of the music, he came to the realisation that it was coming from _inside his right ear_. Somehow, by some magical power, someone had managed to produce heavenly music directly inside his ear. Marius was so amazed at the phantom music that he barely registered Tom yelling “CUUUUUT! CUT!”

“Eddie! What’s wrong? Why are you smiling into the distance with that dopey look on your face?” Marius snapped back into the present, and promptly received a terrifying shock. Tom’s face was inches away from his own, dangerously close. “What’s happening to you? First that thing with the guys yesterday, now this? Is it something in the water?”

“Um… Tom…” Marius stammered. “I don’t … I don’t know the lines. But it _is_ a very beautiful song,” he rushed to add onto the end of his sentence.

Tom’s eyeballs looked like they were close to bulging out of his skull. “How is that even possible? We’ve had countless rehearsals, and I’ve _heard you sing_ this very song. How’re you telling me now that you don’t know the lines?”

Marius felt like he might cry. “I’m sorry Tom, I really don’t know the lines.”

Tom looked like he was debating between hitting him or yelling at him, or both, but before he could get another word out Cosette interrupted him.

“You know what, Tom? It’s probably just because Eddie forgot to eat breakfast or something, or he’s still really tired from yesterday’s shooting. Why don’t we take a break and I’ll go over the lines with him again just to check that he’s really got it?” Cosette smiled sweetly at Tom.

Tom heaved a big sigh. “Fine. Take ten. Then we resume and hopefully we actually get to shoot something without someone saying they don’t know their lines or what to do.” Tom looked pointedly at Marius before walking away.

“Let’s go over there,” Cosette said, leading the way to a small table with a few chairs scattered around it.

“Alright,” she looked at him once he had taken a seat. “Let’s try singing it from the top. Three, two, one…” She looked at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to start.

“Um Eddie? ‘A Heart Full of Love’?”

“Cosette? I wasn’t lying to Tom before. I really don’t know the lines. Not at all.”

“Wait, _what_? Really? Did you get into an accident last night and hit your head or something? Do we need a doctor?” Cosette’s expression showed light-hearted humour attempting to disguise a genuine concern.

“No, no, I’m fine really!” Marius couldn’t bear to see any fear or unhappiness in Cosette’s face. “It’s just -”

He was cut off when a girl plopped herself down into a chair at their table. “Is Eddie having trouble with his lines?”

Marius turned towards the girl, intending to correct her with his real name, but he found himself struck dumb.

“You ok, Eddie?” The girl looked at him with concern mirroring Cosette’s.

Marius just managed to find his voice. “Éponine? You’re alive?”

*

“Very funny. Anyway, I wouldn’t be dead yet, we haven’t filmed that barricade scene yet.” Éponine turned to Cosette. “What’s up with him?”

Cosette shrugged her shoulders. “I have no idea. He just keeps saying he doesn’t know his lines _at all_ and freaked out on Tom when we were trying to shoot ‘A Heart Full of Love’”.

“Seriously?” Éponine looked at Marius. He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. How could he when the last time he saw Éponine, she had died in his arms, bleeding out after taking a bullet for him. Éponine, his friend, who had brought him to Cosette, and who had given her life for him. He could never ask for a better friend than her.

Éponine waved a hand in front of his dazed face when he didn’t answer. “Eddie? You alright? Is he concussed or something?” she asked Cosette.

“That’s exactly what I thought too, but he keeps insisting that he’s fine and that he just doesn’t know the lines.” Cosette looked at Marius, squinting her eyes at him in thought, then she turned back to Éponine. “You know what, Samantha? Why don’t we sing through the song for him so he can pick up the tune, instead of trying to figure out what’s wrong because Tom looks like he’s ready to explode and I really don’t think he can handle Eddie needing a trip to the hospital right now.” She gestured towards Tom, who was standing in the corner, very red in the face, staring at his shoe as if trying to get a grip, but failing spectacularly at it when he yelled at the young boy who had apparently put one too many butterflies on the gate.

“That’s a good idea. And you know, I’ve always wanted to sing Marius’s part in this song. It almost painful, how much he pines for Cosette.” Éponine (why had Cosette called her Samantha?) looked at Marius. “You okay enough to focus when we sing?”

“Hmm? Oh yes, yes, I could definitely focus when you sing. I am very focused right now,” Marius assured them both.

Neither of the girls looked very assured, but they looked at each other, shrugged, and Cosette said “Ok then, here we go. Three, two, one…”

“A heart full of love… A heart full of song…. I’m doing everything all wrong…” Éponine started, and after a few lines, Cosette joined in with her part.

“A heart full of love… No fear, no regrets…” _Her voice was worthy of an audience consisting of nothing less than all the angels in heaven._

“My name is Marius Pontmercy…”

 “And mine’s Cosette…” Just those three words alone were enough to conjure up the memory of that beautiful evening when Marius had first heard Cosette’s angelic voice utter her angelic name.

All too soon, the song was over and the girls were looking at him. “Do you think you could manage it now?” Cosette asked him.

“Oh yes, of course, anything for you, my angel of music,” Marius breathed.

“Did he just reference _The Phantom of the Opera_?” Éponine laughed. “I’m sure he’s fine now. Ok Eddie, it’s your turn. Three… two… one…”

Marius barely had time to think about what he was doing before he was singing the lines that Éponine had sung, all the while keeping his gaze trained on Cosette. They got as far as the first verse before Marius realised that he had forgotten the rest of the words, but Cosette and Éponine seemed pleased enough.

“That’s good, that’s really good!” Éponine patted him on the shoulder. “At least you know the tune now, and you just have to learn the other verses and we should be good to go! I’ll go see if I can persuade Tom to give us another ten minutes. The fact that you just rendered that first verse perfectly should help with the persuading.” She got up and ran over to Tom.

“I can _sing_?” Marius whispered incredulously, to no-one in particular.

“Yeah… you can sing… Why else do you think you were hired for a movie _musical_?” Cosette smiled at him, but the concern was still evident in her face. However, she seemed to think better of inquiring further, and instead just said “Let’s get on with memorising the other three verses, shall we?”

“There are… There are _three more_ verses?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my little sister for giving me the hilarious idea of Marius saying "My name is Marius Pontmercy" when Tom calls him Eddie. You go babe.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Les Amis get clued in on what's going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for any historical inaccuracies, and any deviations from the novel. I haven’t actually read the novel that thoroughly, so I probably got some (or a lot of) stuff wrong.
> 
> Also, I’m sorry that this chapter is so long and draggy, but I really had to get all the “explanations” about what’s going on out of the way, so our Friends of the ABC aren’t walking around completely confused (and I know I use the word “confused” a lot in the story, but really, wouldn’t confusion be the main feeling everyone’s experiencing?). I promise the next chapter will see a bit more action.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who left kudos – it’s really nice knowing people liked reading what I wrote (:

Combeferre was the first to wake, when Marius tripped over his legs while attempting to enter the cabin silently without disturbing any of them. The racket he made when he fell caused the other Amis to groan, except for Grantaire, who remained sound asleep despite having Marius land heavily on him where he was sleeping, sprawled out on the floor.

“What _is_ that infernal noise?” Bahorel muttered angrily from where he was slumped over on the table.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you!” Marius whispered frantically. “At least not like that!”

“Marius?” Combeferre sat up and rubbed his eyes. “What’re you doing up so early?”

“It’s past noon, Combeferre,” Marius said apologetically. “I’ve just spent the morning shooting and I – ”

“ _Shooting?!_ Who or what were you shooting at?” Combeferre jumped to his feet, and at his full height of over six feet, was rather intimidating.

Marius scrambled to explain himself. “No-one! I wasn’t shooting at anyone! I was filming!”

“Fil-ming?” Combeferre’s eyebrows drew together as he pronounced the new word slowly and carefully. “Were you applying a film to something?”

“No, filming means making a movie – a moving picture,” Marius hastily added when he saw Combeferre look like he was about to ask what _that_ new word meant. “Shooting means the same thing. It simply means to capture the sound and visual details of what is happening in front of you, with a camera. That’s the device you use to film, and a microphone captures the sounds.” Combeferre stared at him, and Marius couldn’t blame him. He himself was a little taken aback by the fact that _he_ had just taught _Combeferre_ something new.

Combeferre continued staring at Marius for a long time, as if trying to decide which of his questions was of top priority, before finally saying, “And how did you manage to obtain such information?”

“I had to get up early this morning to film a song with Cosette and Éponine – oh, Cosette’s voice is _heavenly_ , it is nothing like I have ever heard before, and when I sang with her I knew that my voice was not worthy of – ”

“First of all Marius, we’ve heard enough of you gushing about Cosette. Secondly, did you just tell us that you _sang_?” Enjolras, from his sitting position against the side of the lounge, was now looking at Marius in disbelief.

“Yes, I can sing!” Marius beamed back at him. “Dearest Cosette and Éponine helped me with the words and the tune, which reminds me, the girls are waiting outside the cabin – they didn’t want to intrude upon your slumber.”

“Does this mean that we finally have the opportunity to meet the famous Cosette that you ooh and aah about at every meeting?” Grantaire, finally awake, looked delighted. “What are you waiting for? Invite them in!”

Marius practically ran over to the door and wrenched it open. “It’s all right for you to come in now!” he said happily, before stepping back to allow two girls into the cabin.

“Everyone, this is Cosette, and this is Éponine,” Marius gestured first to the girl with hair blonde and soft enough to rival Enjolras’s, and then to the girl with thick, dark hair. “Cosette, Éponine, I would like you to meet Les Amis de l’ABC.”

“I can see why Marius has been so distracted,” Bahorel smirked. “I’m Bahorel.”

“Combeferre.” Combeferre stood up to nod his head and smile at each girl.

“Grantaire,” Grantaire waved from where he was still lying, propped up by one elbow, on the floor. “And you wouldn’t by any chance happen to know where I could procure some wi – ” He was cut off by Enjolras’s curt introduction with his own name, accompanied by an equally curt nod. “Enjolras.”

Courfeyrac jumped up to bow dramatically. “Hello ladies, Courfeyrac at your service.”

“My name is Jehan.” Jehan smiled shyly at them.

“Feuilly. It’s very nice to meet you.” Feuilly dipped his head slightly and smiled warmly in their direction.

“I’m Joly,” Joly said cheerily.

“And I’m Bossuet, it’s a pleasure to meet – ” Here Bossuet cut himself off when he tripped over Grantaire in his haste to greet the girls, and would have fallen flat on his face had Marius not caught him. “Whoops… Thank you Marius.” He grinned sheepishly at Cosette and Éponine.

The two girls were smiling at the group, but there was something odd about their smiles. They looked slightly… worried.

“Did you all just introduce yourselves by your _characters’ names_?” Éponine asked slowly, her confusion showing on her face. When they looked back at her with equally confused looks, she turned to Cosette. “I don’t think it’s just Eddie, Amanda. Something’s not right here.”

“Yeah…” Cosette eyebrows were pulled together in concern as she looked from Éponine to the group. “We need to have a talk.”

*

“Alright, let’s start from the beginning,” Cosette looked at each of the boys from her place at the table. “Why do you keep calling yourselves Marius and Enjolras and Bossuet instead of using your actual names?”

“I call myself Enjolras because that is my name,” Enjolras looked and sounded like he was making a great effort not to snap at Cosette. “I do not understand why people insist on calling me Aaron. I have neither heard of nor met this _Aaron_ before.”

“It’s the same with me. My name is Combeferre, but I am constantly being addressed by the name Killian.” Combeferre looked considerably calmer than Enjolras. There were murmurs from the other Amis that also suggested their bewilderment as to why they weren’t being addressed by their real names.

“Huh. You guys look serious. You sure this isn’t just some extremely well-thought-out prank with excellent coordination from all of you?” Éponine laughed nervously, as if trying to disguise the fact that she sounded desperate for the boys to affirm what she had just said and reveal that it had been a trick all along.

“Of course we’re serious! Why would we make a joke about something like that?” Enjolras was getting more and more irritated. “There is nothing funny about this at all. We were all shot at the barricade and we woke up in this… this _strange_ land. It would be great if we received some kind of explanation instead of everyone treating this like a joke!”

Combeferre placed a hand on Enjolras’s shoulder. “Let’s try to remain calm, Enjolras. I’m sure the girls are as confused as we are.”

“You bet we are.” Éponine looked mildly shocked at Enjolras’s outburst. “One day I’m laughing and joking around with Aaron, and the next day he’s insisting he’s called _Enjolras_ and acting like he has a stick up his ass. This is nothing if not confusing.”

Cosette cut in. “Okay, okay. Let me try to get this straight. You’re saying that you’re all really Les Amis…” Combeferre nodded. “… and that you were shot at the barricade, during the June Rebellion in Paris in 1832…” He nodded again. “… and somehow woke up on the set of _Les Misérables_ in England in 2012?” At this Combeferre froze.

“What year did you say we were in?” He asked softly.

“2012?” Cosette replied hesitantly.

Combeferre did not say anything. Instead, he looked around slowly at each of his friends, then back to Cosette. “Are you telling us that somehow we have just been brought forward one hundred and eighty years into the future, and to a different country?”

“I guess so, if you insist that you really did die at the barricade in 1832.”

Combeferre did not know what to say. He wasn’t willing to deny the possibility of something like that happening, but at the same time, he didn’t want to accept wholeheartedly, without question, what he had just been told. “How can that be?”

“I’m just as lost as you are,” Cosette shrugged, and Éponine nodded her agreement. “But we haven’t got time to go looking for this magical time machine or whatever you think has dropped you off here. I’m not going to try to argue with you, because you all seem convinced that you really are your characters, and I don’t want to try convincing you otherwise.”

“Especially with this one here.” Éponine muttered, jerking her head towards Enjolras.

“Besides,” Cosette continued quickly before Enjolras could say anything, “I think we _really_ need to work on a few things, because if you walk onto set tomorrow and tell Tom that you don’t know what to do again, he’s going to have your asses for breakfast.”

The Amis looked at her and Éponine, unsure of what to say. How could they know what to say, when they had just been told that they were in the year _2012_ in _England_? What had happened at the barricade? Why hadn’t they died when they were supposed to?

Cosette seemed to sense their confusion, because she said, “Alright, why don’t I give you guys a run-down of what’s happening? You are all actors – or at least, that’s how everyone else knows you – on the set of the movie-musical _Les Misérables._ ”

“Did she say _actors_? Like those in Shakespeare’s or Molière’s plays?” Joly whispered to Bossuet, who just shook his head with a dubious look on his face.

Cosette continued as if the interruption had not occurred. “Everyone sees you as Aaron Tveit, Killian Donnelly, George Blagden, Fra Fee, Gabriel Vick, Alistair Brammer, Iwan Lewis, Stuart Neal, Hugh Skinner, and Eddie Redmayne.” She pointed in turn at Enjolras, Combeferre, Grantaire, Courfeyrac, Feuilly, Jehan, Bahorel, Bossuet, Joly and Marius. “So you’d better get used to your first names, because that’s why people are going to be calling you. Speaking of names, mine is Amanda, _not_ Cosette.” She looked at Marius. “I am _not_ your Cosette,” she said seriously. “And this is _not_ Éponine. She’s Samantha.” She pointed at Éponine.

“And we’d really like for you to call us Amanda and Samantha, not Cosette and Éponine.” Éponine – Samantha – added.

Marius looked even more confused, if that were possible. “But how can that be? You look exactly like Cosette and Éponine!” He looked worriedly between the two girls.

“And all of you look exactly like the actors we know, but you insist that you’re really Les Amis de l’ABC. So obviously something’s not making sense here – no you know what, scratch that, _nothing’s_ making sense here – but we just have to roll with it because we’ve got a film to shoot and we can’t waste time arguing about names. So why don’t we make a deal here – we’ll call you by your preferred names, and you call us by ours. And you just have to deal with the rest of the crew and cast calling you by your actors’ names because there’s no way I’m attempting to explain this whole mess to everyone else.” Samantha looked at all of them. “Deal?”

Enjolras opened his mouth, obviously about to make known his many arguments, but was stopped by Combeferre’s hand on his shoulder. He nodded his agreement at Samantha. “I suppose that is all we can do for now, until we find the complete answers to all our questions.”

“Excellent.” Cosette – no, _Amanda_ – smiled at them. “Now I don’t suppose any of you know how a movie is made, do you?”

Ten blank faces answered her question.

*

Amanda stood up. “Let’s get out of this stuffy trailer – it’s called a trailer, by the way, this cabin of yours – and we’ll show you the equipment and the sets so you know the basics of what’s going on.” She and Samantha stepped out of the trailer, and Marius followed them eagerly. The rest of the Amis did the same, albeit more slowly and hesitantly.

The girls led them down the road towards the same building they were in yesterday.

“Ok this is the main building with all the indoor sets that we use, like the ABC Café and Marius’s room at the hotel,” Amanda gestured towards the building.

“What exactly is this play about?” Combeferre asked Samantha. “And which theatre will it be performed in?”

“It’s not exactly a play… it’s a musical, which I guess you could see as a play where the words are sung instead of spoken. “

“Like an opera?”

“Kind of, yeah. And we don’t perform in a theatre. This is a movie, not a stage production – our acting and singing is captured on cameras and then shown in cinemas all over the world.”

“ _All over the world_?” Both Combeferre and Enjolras’s faces lit up with excitement at the same time, but for different reasons. For Combeferre, what Samantha had just told them represented the very real possibility of spreading knowledge and promoting education in ways that he had never imagined; for Enjolras, it would take publicity for the campaign to a whole new height.

“Yeah, pretty cool stuff huh?” Samantha grinned at their enthusiasm as they entered the building and waved to a group of people who were working on some equipment. “Alright, some basic terminology. _That_ is a video camera,” here she pointed to a black device that looked like a shorter and bulkier telescope, with a large lens on the end. “It captures footage of every movement you make.”

Combeferre stared in wonder at the camera. “This captures _movement_?” Samantha nodded. “This is nothing like the camera I know of – that only captured still images on bitumen-coated surfaces.”

Samantha grinned again. “Technology’s come a long way since 1832, my friend. Moving on, that’s a microphone – it captures all the sounds we make.” She gestured to the long, black stick with a black, bushy tail on the end that they had seen the day before.

They walked through the building, with the girls pointing out things and explaining them. They learnt that Tom was someone called a _director_ , and that he controlled the overall vision of the film. They also learnt that the black contraptions the _crew_ wore on their heads were called _headphones_ attached to smaller microphones, and these allowed them to communicate without shouting across the room.

 As they were making their way back out, Enjolras asked Amanda, “What _exactly_ is this… _movie_ about?”

“It’s about you guys – well, not just you, there are other characters too – but a large part is about you and your role in the June Rebellion of 1832. It’s based off Victor Hugo’s novel _Les Misérables_.”

“Someone wrote a novel about _us_?” Courfeyrac asked excitedly. “ _Our_ lives are documented in a book?”

“Now _this_ book I have to read.” Combeferre added.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that, but up till now we’ve always thought it was fiction… I didn’t know Les Amis de l’ABC actually existed.” Amanda looked at them in wonder. “I still can’t get over the fact that Les Amis are actually standing in front of me – that is, if you’re not just playing a very horrible – but very clever – prank on us.”

“I assure you we are not.” Enjolras said seriously.

Combeferre seemed to sense the tension from Enjolras, because he quickly pointed at two large, metal objects, which looked like round cages with propellers inside of them. “What are those?”

“Oh those? Those are used to artificially create wind for the scenes that are set outdoors,” Amanda explained. “They’re basically giant fans.”

Feuilly stopped short and looked at her. “Could you please repeat what you just said?”

Amanda looked confused. “What, about the giant fans?”

“These are _fans_?” Feuilly walked over to the fans slowly, amazement showing on his face. “Can I _touch_ them?”

Amanda stared at him, then looked to Combeferre for an explanation.

“Feuilly’s a fan maker. I don’t think he has ever come across a fan like that.”

“Oh, that’s right, it’s in the novel!” Amanda laughed. “So you’re a fan of fans!” Her smile faltered when only Samantha laughed and said “Good one Amanda.” The rest of the group simply stared at her blankly, except for Feuilly, who was still gazing in dazed wonder at the fans. “It’s a joke, guys… he’s a fan of fans, because he’s fanatic about – oh, never mind. It’s too much effort to explain it.”

“By the way, we’re going to have to practise your lines today because you’ve got a big song to film tomorrow,” Samantha added. “And you’d better get your singing down by tonight.”

“I don’t sing.” Enjolras said irritably.

“Tom’s got an audition tape that says otherwise.” Samantha retorted.

 “I do not understand why we have to sing.” Enjolras frowned at her. “Would a speech about the oppression of the masses and the ignorance of the nobility not be more effective in spreading the word?”

“No it wouldn’t, because nobody would go to see a two-and-a-half hour movie that basically consists of one person giving a speech.” She smirked and added, “No matter how pretty that speaker is.”

“Let’s face it guys – the June Rebellion is a lot more interesting when sung.” Amanda smiled apologetically. “Now can we go get some food? I’m starving.”

They were halfway to what the girls called “craft service” before they realised that Feuilly wasn’t with them, and Bahorel had to run back to drag him away from the fans.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The barricade boys have to sing. Stuff happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all once again for your kudos and comments and bookmarks. It really helps motivate me to write another chapter, knowing that there are people who want to read it (:  
> This chapter is a little shorter (actually waaaaaaayyyy shorter) than the previous one, but I think it worked out alright. 
> 
> Also, I recently saw this post by tumblr user fahrouche: “imagine enjolras’s face if he magically popped into the 21st century and discovered the french monarchy was long gone”, and I was all :DDDD

The group arrived on set early in the morning, but even so, it appeared that they were the last to arrive. The rest of the crew and the other extras were already there, milling about in full costume, or setting up their equipment.

The boys stood huddled together in a group, yawning and trying to blink the sleep out of their eyes. They had spent a good part of the night with Amanda and Samantha practising _Do you hear the people sing?_ for today’s shooting, and so had only gotten a couple hours of sleep.

Samantha walked over, her long dark hair put up under a cap. She was dressed like a man, the way that Éponine had that day at the barricade. “You guys ready?” She yawned. “I hope you remember your lines… I didn’t sacrifice my sleep for you to mess this up for everyone.”

“We remember our lines perfectly,” said Enjolras stiffly. “But I’d still like an opportunity to present my argument on why singing a song would _not_ be as effective as yelling ‘Down with Louis-Philippe! Long live the Republic!’ Those are, after all, some of our most well-known slogans. They are concise, yet effective. Why wouldn’t we use them?”

Samantha sighed tiredly. “Look – we’ve been over this a million times. We sing the song, because this is a musical, where you _sing_. So shut up already about your speeches and slogans and just _sing_ , okay?”

Enjolras looked like he was about to argue against Samantha’s words, but Combeferre interrupted him. “What Enjolras means to say, is thank you, Samantha. Thank you for staying up with us and teaching us the words and the tune, and practising with us. We really appreciate it.” He paused. “ _All_ of us.” He looked pointedly at Enjolras.

The boys declared their thanks as earnestly as they could, with enthusiastic nods, and even Enjolras managed a stiff “Thank you”.

“It’s fine, you guys. I just hope everything goes smoothly today. You’re actually really lucky they decided to have you all sing together, instead of doing solos like in the stage musical. This way, you don’t have to worry too much about not sounding perfect. Plus, I think you’ll have a lot of fun. This is one of the best songs in the musical.” Samantha smiled at them.

“Oh yes indeed, the words are _exquisite_. Whoever wrote them is immensely talented.” Jehan gushed. “I could only hope to convey such wonderful meaning through my writing.”

“Oh yeah, you’re the poet!” Samantha smiled at Jehan. “You’re such a cutie, you know?” She booped Jehan on the nose, causing him to beam happily while blushing furiously.

“Places everyone!” They all jumped when the shrillness of a voice coming through a loud-speaker interrupted them. 

Samantha starting speaking really quickly then, an anxious look on her face. “Ok you all remember what you have to do, right? We all start off standing on the sides of the road, and then when the carriage comes by—”

“We know, Samantha. There’s _nothing_ to worry about,” Combeferre laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll all be fine.”

Samantha only managed to nod, before they were forced to split up and make their way to their respective positions by a very irritated-looking production assistant.

*

Looking back, the shooting had actually gone pretty well. That is, until it didn’t.

The start had been a little wobbly, with the boys not singing loud enough or occasionally missing a line, but it only took a couple of takes before they were able to sing the whole song through without messing up. It also sounded rather good, surprisingly. Bossuet’s luck was also – miraculously – good. He only fell off the carriage once, and he managed to prevent Joly from having a heart attack by hastily dancing about in front of him to show him that nothing was broken.

It was only after they’d finished the singing part that it all went to hell.

It was the scene where Courfeyrac is knocked to the ground by a soldier on a horse, and a stranger helps him up. Courfeyrac had turned to the actor, like he was supposed to, and said “Thank you Monsieur!”, like he was supposed to, and promptly froze in place, like he wasn’t supposed to.

“It’s you!” He gasped, recognition dawning on his face. “You’re the mole! The inspector!” He grabbed hold of the man’s arm and yelled out to his friends, “IT’S THE SPY! THE SPY IS HERE! IT’S THE BASTARD INSPECTOR!” 

Tom froze in horror for a few seconds as he watched the group of boys charge the actor and knock him to the ground, all the while yelling “KILL THE SPY! KILL HIM!”, before he regained his senses and joined the crew and extras already trying to pull the boys away from the poor man.

“What is going on?!” he shouted once the boys had been pulled away and were now being restrained by members of the crew and some extras. “Why on earth did you attack Russell? You’re not supposed to know he’s an inspector till later on in the storyline!”

Enjolras, still trying to fight against the hands restraining him, started to say “He deserves to b—” before he was silenced by Samantha hissing in his ear, “He’s not really Javert, remember? He’s Russell Crowe, the _actor_ playing Javert!”

Enjolras promptly went slack against his restraints, and he stared at Samantha for a very long time before slowly turning his head to look at Russell, who was now standing as far away from them as possible, looking very shaken up and wary of what they might try to do to him next. After a long, awkward silence, he finally said in a quiet but steady voice, “We are very sorry, Russell. That was a terrible mistake on our part. It appears that we had mixed up our scenes. I do hope that you will forgive us.” Beside him, Samantha remained tensed, hoping that everyone would buy Enjolras’s lie and treat it as nothing more than an honest mistake.

Enjolras heard her sigh of relief and felt her relax when Russell said “That’s alright, Aaron. I’m not too sure how you managed to mix up such major scenes, but it’s alright. No hard feelings.” He even smiled at Enjolras.

Enjolras forced himself to smile back, reminding himself that this was _not Javert_ , but _Russell_.

Tom looked from Russell to Enjolras, then at the rest of the group. “Okay!” he said in a falsely cheerful voice that did nothing to disguise the stress he was obviously still feeling. “Just an honest mistake! Is everyone alright?” When they all nodded enthusiastically at him, he nodded back and, still nodding, said “Great! Let’s take five, shall we?”

They all murmured their agreement and the cast and crew slowly dispersed from where they had crowded around the commotion.

Samantha rounded on them immediately. “What the hell, guys?” She whispered angrily. “You need to remember that it’s just _you_ who have been affected by this time travel… _thing_! Everyone else is _just acting_!”

Courfeyrac, who was red in the face, said apologetically, “I’m sorry I got carried away and forgot. I just saw his face and…” He sighed and hung his head. “I’m sorry.” he simply said again.

Samantha’s anger seemed to dissipate a little when she saw how remorseful and embarrassed Courfeyrac was. She took a deep breath, then said, “That’s okay, just make sure it doesn’t happen again, because people are going to start asking questions about your weird behaviour.”

“We promise!” Courfeyrac immediately returned to his cheerful self when he realised that Samantha wasn’t going to stay upset at them. “It will never happen again.” He shook his head earnestly, and everyone did the same, murmuring “No it won’t”s and “Never again”s in agreement.

“I hope not.” Samantha didn’t look fully reassured, but she simply continued with, “Anyway, we’d better take our places.” She walked away into the crowd of actors, but not before the boys caught her saying “Poor Tom” under her breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a short chapter. I hope it wasn’t too bad. 
> 
> The next chapter’s going to be really different – so hopefully it’ll make up for this one!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interviews are conducted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again for all your comments and kudos on the previous chapter(s) - they never fail to make my day (:

“Aaron! Aaron!” It took Enjolras a few seconds to realise that someone was calling his name, or at least the name of the actor he was meant to be. He still wasn’t used to that name, and didn’t know how he could ever become used to it. Being exhausted out of his mind probably didn’t help either.

He stopped walking and turned in the direction of the voice, and almost immediately after, the rest of the group stopped too. A young member of the crew was running frantically towards them, and when he finally reached them, it took him a few seconds to catch his breath.

“Whew! You guys walk fast!” he gasped, still breathless. “I was afraid you’d left. We need you guys to do some interviews for _Musical Online_. They just showed up 5 minutes ago.”

“ _Musical Online_? What is that?” Combeferre asked. “Why do we need an interview with them? Are they part of a body of authority?”

“What?” The crew member stared quizzically at Combeferre. “Well, they’re not that important really – if that’s what you’re asking – I mean, they’re not exactly _Broadway.com,_ but it’s still publicity, and we figured we could use all the press we can get.”

“So what you’re saying, is that we are going to be conducting some interviews, which will be published, for the general public to read?” Enjolras asked thoughtfully. Combeferre could almost see the cogs turning in his head. 

“Yeah, although I think it’s more of a video thing than a written interview…” The boy said hesitantly. “Look, if you don’t want to do it, I’ll just let PR know. They probably won’t be too happy, but I get that you’re all tired after having to climb up and down that carriage multiple times. It’s up to you.” He shrugged.

“No, it’s fine.” Enjolras said with a firm nod of his head. “We’ll do it. Lead the way.” With that, he strode confidently beside the boy as he led them towards the now empty set of the Café Musain.

Combeferre sighed. With a tired wave of his hand, he prompted the rest of the group to follow Enjolras and the crew member towards what he already suspected would be a disaster of an interview. He knew that Enjolras had no intention of promoting the film – he had other ideas.

*

“Alright, we’re interviewing all of you at once, as a group, so try to keep your answers short, okay?” The interviewer, who introduced herself as Tracey, said to them. When they nodded in response to her, she continued, “Now there are…” Here she did a quick head count, “… ten of you, so it would probably be a good idea if five of you could sit on chairs, and the other five could sit on tables behind them so we can get everyone in the shot. I don’t mind who sits where, we’re not doing some stuffy formal interview here.”

After a minute of dragging tables and chairs together into a semicircle-like position that satisfied Tracey, and another minute of the boys figuring out who was sitting where, they ended up in a formation that consisted of Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Enjolras, Joly and Bossuet sitting in that order in the chairs in front, and Marius, Feuilly, Bahorel, Jehan and Grantaire sitting on the tables behind them. The boys had very wisely made Bossuet sit in a sturdy chair rather than on the rather wobbly-looking tables, and Combeferre had made sure to place himself right beside Enjolras, so as to be able to intervene should Enjolras start something (which was looking very likely, judging by the excited and determined look on their leader’s face).

Tracey herself took a seat in a chair just beside the camera, so she wouldn’t be in the actual shot.

“Fantastic! Are we ready?” She smiled widely at them.

The boys managed to smile nervously back at her, all of them apprehensive about what was going to happen, except for Enjolras, who smiled confidently and said, “Absolutely.”

“Excellent! Let’s start with you, Aaron, for obvious reasons.” Here Enjolras nodded confidently at her. “So your character, Enjolras, is the leader of this group of revolutionaries. How does it make you feel to play someone who is so passionate about their cause that they are willing to die for it?”

 “It makes me feel very good. I am a firm believer in democracy, and creating a country where freedom and equality triumph over oppression, and if death is the only way to improve the lives of the poor, then so be it.” Enjolras sounded exactly like he always did when he was giving a speech in the streets of Paris, or in the Musain (too much actually, Combeferre thought). In fact, he sounded so much like himself that Tracey was now giving him an astounded look.

“Wow, Aaron. You’ve really gotten into your role… you sound just like your character. How much work and method acting did it take for you to be able to transform into Enjolras completely?”

“It’s easy. It shouldn’t be difficult at all to want to fight for the rights of the poor and the oppressed, once one gets a glimpse of the struggles that the masses go through every day. Suffering and injustice reign throughout the land, and it falls to all citizens who are capable of doing so, to work towards the goal of overthrowing the m—”

“What Aaron means,” Combeferre cut in hastily, when he realised that Tracey’s expression was changing from amazed to increasingly confused, “Is that you need to think like your character, in order to fully and faithfully portray who they are on screen.”

Enjolras looked furious at the fact that Combeferre would interrupt him mid-speech, but his attempt to voice his displeasure was promptly shot down by the subtle but dangerous look that Combeferre gave him when he opened his mouth.

Tracey’s confused look was now gradually turning into understanding. “I see. Well, it’s still amazing, how you’ve managed to bring this character from the page to life. You should win an award for this!” She chuckled, and the boys forced themselves to laugh along when Combeferre demonstrated by example while giving them meaningful glares.

“Let’s move on to you, Eddie,” She smiled at Marius, sitting at the edge of the group. Marius looked terrified, but to his credit, he managed to stammer out a “Su…Sure!”

“Now your character, Marius, is probably perceived by most as being extremely different to Aaron’s character. What would you say to fans of the musical who think that Marius is nothing more than a lovesick boy?”

Marius’s mind was racing to formulate a coherent response. “Well… I think that there are many more layers to Marius than what the audience can see. Of course, I – I mean _he_ – is in love with Cosette, what a beautiful angel from heaven…” Here his eyes took on a dreamy quality, but he quickly snapped back into the present when Feuilly nudged him with his elbow. “Wha—I mean, he _is_ in love with Cosette, but he also focuses on Les Amis and their cause, as well as his studies, despite being thrown into poverty. He has friendships with Les Amis, especially with Courfeyrac, who helps him by giving him a place to stay.” Marius smiled gratefully at Courfeyrac, who beamed back at him.

“Wow… There _is_ a lot more to Marius than what the musical portrays. Kudos to all of you for reading the book – it really shows in your answers. Now _this_ is what I call dedication to a role.” They smiled at her in response, and she continued. “So Marius and Enjolras are probably the first two characters who come to mind when you say ‘revolutionary’, but the other characters, while lacking major lines in the musical, do have significant roles in the novel. For example, Gabriel, you play Few..Feh… “ Tracey sighed in mock exasperation. “This is the one name I can never get right. How do I say your character’s name again?”

Feuilly looked mildly surprised, but simply said “Feuilly” clearly and perfectly, causing Tracey to give him an impressed look. “Those French lessons really _are_ paying off, huh?”

Feuilly clearly looked like he wanted to ask “What French lessons?” but settled for a smile instead.

Tracey went on to tell Feuilly about how she was in awe of his character (or him) because he was so different from the other Amis in that he wasn’t a rich student, and he had taught himself everything he knows, prompting Feuilly to blush slightly and dip his head modestly before realising that he wasn't supposed to be Feuilly, and so he wasn't supposed to be modest. He managed to save the situation with "Indeed, I am glad to be playing such a strong character."

The rest of the interview went rather smoothly, with Tracey asking the other Amis simple questions about their characters, and Combeferre managing to keep Enjolras from interrupting every few minutes.

At the end of the interview, Tracey thanked them and told them once again that she had never seen a group of actors so dedicated to being faithful to their characters that they actually seemed like their characters even when they were not shooting. After she left, they slumped back down into their seats in relief, just as Samantha walked onto the set. She was grinning happily.

“I heard you boys had to do an interview. How was it?”

“Actually, it didn’t go too badly.” Courfeyrac remarked.

“And Combeferre managed to stop Enjolras here from interrupting with his speech on overthrowing the monarchy.” Grantaire smirked from where he was sprawled out on a table, leaning back on his elbows.

Enjolras shot Grantaire an irritated look, one that they were all familiar with, before saying to Combeferre rather bitterly, “That was a perfect opportunity to raise awareness about our campaign, and we wasted it.”

“Enjolras, this is a different time and age, and we have to remember that we are meant to be actors, not ourselves.” Combeferre responded patiently.

Enjolras opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off quickly by Samantha.

“Okay! That’s enough for tonight. I came to get you because it’s getting pretty late and you should really go get some sleep. We need to practise your next song tomorrow.”

“What song are we singing this time?” Jehan asked.

“It’s called _Drink With Me_.”

Grantaire grinned widely. “Now _that’s_ a song I think I’ll enjoy.”

Samantha didn’t have the heart to tell him that it wouldn’t be real wine in the bottle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter wasn’t great. The idea of doing a promo/interview/publicity thing seemed hilarious when I thought of it, but when I tried to actually write it, it didn’t turn out so well. But I decided to post it anyway because I think we need a change from filming.
> 
> And yes, I made up Musical Online. I know it’s a terrible name for an online media website, but I couldn’t think of anything else.
> 
> Also, credit goes to my little sister for Tracey’s “French lessons paying off” line (:


End file.
